Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Had I been focused on a device instead of my surroundings I would’ve missed the panicking woman in front of me who had just finished ordering only to realize she forgot her card to pay with. I told them to add it to my order, no big deal. She thanked me profusely and after I ordered for us, she promised to pay me back. I told her repeatedly she didn’t have to, but she kept swearing she did. She then explained how her boss was in town for a work convention and hadn’t been feeling well since they landed, and how hot tea always did the trick to get him better. I acknowledged my understanding and then gave her the small vial of healing sand I had on hand-”
“You just keep that shit in your pocket?!”
“Yeah. Keys, phone, wallet, sand. You never know when someone might need it.”
“So. Weird.”
“I explained to her what it was, what it did, and after that she was even more adamant about getting my number to properly thank me.”
“Kind of just sounds like she wanted the number of the hot guy who bought her coffee, Tuck.”
“And then on Tuesday morning while you were in the shower, I got a text from her over the top thanking me again. She told me how her boss slept with it under his pillow like I suggested all day and night and how he felt a thousand percent better and insisted she give us two passes to the convention where he would be this weekend. And after I told her we already had passes because my girlfriend is a huge fan of the culture – especially him – she gave us VIP passes that grant us first seating priority to his panel, first in line for merchandise autographing, and she put our names down for a private one on one moment for you to discuss his work and him to ask me more about the sand.”
“OhmyGoya!”
“See,” I playfully poke. “Fate always knows what she’s doing.”
“Tuck?” an annoying voice calls out my direction forcing my eyes to hit the bright blue sky above.
“Almost always,” my voice mumbles to her prior to peering up at him. “What are you doing here, Norm? Isn’t this place a little…I don’t know…out of your comfort zone?”
He doesn’t hesitate to jab back. “Isn’t it out of yours?”
“Yes, but I’m here being a supportive boyfriend.”
Norm grunts his acknowledgment and shifts his attention to June. “Who are you anxious to see?”
“Kozzmo.” She tucks a strand of hair innocently behind her ear. “His Mangas are among my all-time favorites.”
“Mine too.” His sleazy smirk has me dropping a protective hand on my lady’s leg. “His panel is up next, and I’d offer to let you two wait in line with me – since I’ve got a group one pass – but it doesn’t allow for tagalongs. Sorry.”
“We totally get it,” my girlfriend jovially replies. “The rules for VIP are even stricter.”
Her comment shakes him like I’m sure she intended. “Y-Y-You have VIP?!”
“Yeah,” June states at the same time we stand up to initiate our exit, “Tuck’s a really supportive boyfriend.”
Shooting him an arrogant wink precedes me grabbing our trash in one hand and locking our fingers together with the other.
Fuck. Me.
Whenever her inner goddess side shows up on the outside, I damn near fucking come right wherever it is I’m standing. It damn sure makes it much fucking harder to get from wherever we are to wherever we need to be without making some sort of pitstop to dive deep into that attitude bucket before the lid pops back on trapping her heavily guarded confidence color back inside.
It’s absolutely my favorite shade to see.
And create.
And touch.
Especially with my fingers.
Post a slightly too long panel – primarily due to Kozzmos monotone – and getting shit autographed, we agree to meet Kozzmo and his assistant, Hana, for dinner at Swinging Sushi, a little local place that comes with a fun twist. My girlfriend geeks out fairly hard in the beginning but around her third cup of sake, she manages to relax. Him and I exchange interesting tales from our worldly adventures while the love of my life merely listens on.
Lives vicariously.
Longs to have stories of her own to tell.
By the end of the meal, which he refuses to let us help pay for, I know I no longer have to push her so hard to come away with me after the reception.
She’s willing.
Fuck, she’s more than willing.
I bet I could convince her to skip the wedding shit and leave with me by the end of this weekend instead.
Our journey into the master bedroom at the lake house is a little more complicated than normal due to June’s right on the cusp of over-inebriation. She has a couple additional stumbles. Forgets to set the security code. Pouts when I tell her we’re going to our bed to snuggle versus to the couch to binge anime.